Authors: Patricia Rosemoor
Isabel stomach tightened. “How old are you?”
Sunny seemed startled, then quickly said, “Twenty-one.”
Too
quickly. Giving them a pouty face, she said, “My tits don’t excite Bobby anymore. He wants young, pure flesh that hasn’t been messed with.” She scrunched her arms to her sides to accentuate her considerable cleavage. “Never had any complaints about these babies until that prick. I gotta dance now,” she said, rising from her chair. “Why don’t you go over to Bobby’s place and interrupt his little lovefest. That would serve him right!”
“If he’s there,” Micah said. “They could be at her place.”
“Didn’t you hear the jailbait part? She’s so young she’s still living with her mother, for Pete’s sake.”
The breath stalled in Isabel’s throat.
Oh, God
.
An image of Bobby taking advantage of Lucy formed in Isabel’s mind and made her want to throw up.
“Where does he live again?” Micah asked.
“I thought the two of you were buddies.”
Isabel clenched her jaw so she wouldn’t scream at the dancer to tell them.
“Buddies who drink together at a local bar,” Micah lied with a disarming grin. “Doesn’t mean I’ve ever been to his place.”
Sunny shrugged. “What the heck do I care why you want to track him down. He deserves someone giving
him
trouble for once.” She told him where to find Bobby—his house was halfway back to Santa Fe—then started to leave. Almost through the door, she stopped and turned to face Micah. “If you really are a friend of Bobby’s, do me a favor. Don’t ever come back. I don’t need his kind around here.”
After she left, Isabel met Micah’s gaze. His expression was unreadable. “What are we waiting for?”
“Just thinking,” he muttered.
Isabel didn’t have to ask about what. She could barely breathe as she said, “Let’s go see if his new girl is Lucy.”
“If she is,” Micah growled, low and dangerous, “he’s a dead man.”
…
Micah thought briefly about going back to the ranch for his shotgun. But no, he didn’t need a weapon. He’d do it with his bare hands wrapped around the bastard’s neck. He’d squeeze the life out of Bobby Soto and leave him where he dropped if he’d so much as touched his daughter.
But he was getting ahead of himself.
He had to keep his temper in check until he knew for certain.
Maybe it wasn’t Lucy. And maybe it was, but perhaps Bobby had been planning to use her as a bargaining chip somehow to free his brother. Not as a—
Either way, Bobby would pay.
Unable to speak—he would have to choke out words past the lump in his throat—he drove in silence, every so often glancing at Isabel. Her skin had grown pale and her hands were trembling. She kept trying to find something to do with them. Smoothing the denim over her knees. Picking at a chipped nail. Alternating spreading her fingers with making fists.
Instinctively, he reached over with his right hand and covered both of hers. She clung to him as if she would never let go.
Once off the highway and on the gravel road that would take them to Bobby’s home, Micah mentally prepared himself for anything.
An exercise in futility.
No one answered the door.
“What now?” Isabel asked. “His car is gone. He’s not here. What if Lucy is, though?”
Micah pressed himself against a window of the two-story Territorial style house. Peering through slatted blinds, he said, “Can’t see anything from here. We need to get inside.”
She blinked uncertainly.
“Even if we don’t find Lucy, we might find proof that Bobby has her somewhere else.”
She hesitated, then nodded. “Okay.”
He looked around. The house sat in a wooded area on a couple of acres. Enough land to give them privacy from other homes in the area. Plus, the sun had set, the tall pines casting long shadows over the grounds.
No one would see if they happened to find a way in.
Isabel was already checking under the doormat. “No key here.”
Micah felt top of the door frame, over the windows, under the lone gigantic planter in which sat a neglected shrub…
“No key.”
“So what do we do?”
“We find another way in. Let’s check every first-floor window all the way around the building. I’ll go left, you go right.”
Not looking very happy about doing so, Isabel started with the nearest window. As did Micah.
“If you find one open, let me know. Don’t go inside by yourself.”
The warning was for nothing. A few minutes later, they met around back in disappointment.
“There’s no way in,” Micah said. “Unless…”
“You’re going to break in?” Isabel sounded uneasy at the prospect. “I think we should call Detective Ochoa.”
He backed away from the back door, which was sheltered by a porch roof, and studied the second floor. “Look.” He pointed to one of the upstairs windows that was open a few inches. “I won’t have to break in.”
As he dragged an empty planter closer to one of the supports, Isabel asked, ”What are you doing?”
“This.”
Holding onto the support, he climbed onto the planter. Wrestling a steer to the ground might be easier, but he managed to jump up, grab onto the overhang, and haul himself onto the narrow section of roof. He gingerly climbed the few feet up the slope, got to the window, and opened it. He glanced back to see Isabel watching, her expression anxious. For him?
“Don’t worry, I’ll be careful. Just stay where you are and I’ll let you in through the door. But if you see anyone coming, warn me on my cell.”
She licked her lips, took a deep breath and called up, “Okay.”
He slid open the window and peered inside. A darkened bedroom. Empty. He climbed in and lowered the window back to its original position. Then he moved to the bedroom door as quietly as he could. Just in case.
Within minutes, he knew the effort was wasted. All four bedrooms and bath were empty, and he found nothing to indicate Lucy had ever been there. He trotted down the stairway to the first floor and took a quick look around the living area and office to make sure they really were alone, then he let Isabel in through the kitchen.
When she saw his face, hers crumpled. “Lucy’s not here, is she?”
Micah shook his head. “No sign of her at all.”
“Then where is she? Where could Bobby be keeping her?”
“I wish I knew.”
He also wished he could take Isabel in his arms and comfort her, if just for a moment. But they couldn’t afford to let down their guard in case someone came
.
He turned away and said. “I haven’t searched down here. Let’s look around. There’s got to be something to connect him. Anything.”
“What if…” She swallowed. “What if it’s not Bobby, after all?”
A grim certainty settled in his belly. “It is. I’m sure of it. And we’ll find something that proves it.”
Chapter Nine
Isabel’s nerves were tied in as many knots as her stomach. Darkness was settling over the land and the hour was growing late. Fearing Bobby would be home soon and catch them going through his office, she hurriedly scanned the shelves on one wall. Not that she thought they would really find a way to prove he’d taken their daughter. But they had to look. The authorities wouldn’t be able to search in here without a warrant. And what if they
did
find something?
The shelves held some books, mostly thrillers or books about cars. On other shelves, Bobby had set out family photos. She recognized the one of him and Hank, taken on Suicide Hill. And there was another taken in front of the family cabin in the mountains. She’d ridden past the place once when they were having a big get-together. Bobby had intercepted her, invited her to join the fun. That had been before the Coyote Lounge incident, and when she’d refused, he hadn’t taken the rejection with a smile. She’d felt his scowl on her back as she’d ridden away. She’d told Micah about it later, but he hadn’t thought there was anything to worry about.
She checked behind the photos and behind some knickknacks, but saw nothing the least incriminating.
“I don’t even know what to look for,” she murmured in frustration. “I haven’t seen a thing that would give us a clue about Lucy.”
“So far, this is a bust,” Micah agreed, looking up from Bobby’s desktop computer where he’d been busy checking out Bobby’s personal records. “I haven’t found anything in his computer files about the accident, or about Hank, or about Lucy.”
“You’ve checked his calendar?”
“Yep. Nothing suspicious there, either.”
“What about his browser history?”
“I was just getting to that.”
His fingers flew over the keyboard as she stood behind him to look over his shoulder. When he brought up the history for the last seven days, she quickly scanned the list.
“A lot of car sites,” she murmured as Micah scrolled down the page. “Wait! There.” She tapped the computer screen. “The
Santa Fe Courier
.”
Micah clicked on the link and a story about the traffic accident came up, which included the photograph that Isabel had taken of the toppled school bus. Her heart stalled, remembering how she’d been called out to the job and had started shooting photos before seeing the number on the rear of the bus. That’s when she’d realized it was Lucy’s bus. That her daughter was inside, maybe badly hurt…or worse.
She’d stood frozen for what had seemed like hours, unable to breathe, as children were pulled out of the wreckage. And then one of the rescue workers had lifted a bloody, crying girl up through the doorway. Lucy! Another worker had grabbed her daughter and helped her to the ground as Isabel had run to her, frantic to make sure she was all right. There’d been so much blood. She’d never been so terrified. When Lucy was checked out by a paramedic, Isabel had been both relieved and horrified to learn the blood had come from another girl.
Lucy had sobbed that she’d tried to save her friend Annie from bleeding to death, but couldn’t do it. Annie had been one of the two children who’d died in the crash. Thankfully, Lucy had suffered only minor cuts and contusions.
The real damage had been emotional.
Often in Lucy’s nightmares, she was the one who’d died.
Micah’s voice brought her back to the present. “Look. There are other sites with stories about the accident and about his brother’s arrest,” he said, clicking from one link to the next to a third.
“That doesn’t prove anything other than he’s keeping up with the police investigation.”
Micah was going back and forth to the list of sites Bobby had visited, checking them out one by one.
“Uh-oh, look at this. Our boy is into Internet porn.”
“This surprises you?” Isabel twitched with discomfort when Micah clicked on one of the links and a photo of a girl in a school uniform with her blouse open and holding one of her breasts came up. “Oh, Lord, she’s so—”
“Young?”
With a growl, Micah clicked on another link, and another, and another. All girls who looked too young to be legal. Some were wearing school uniforms, some with no underwear, legs spread, giving the viewer a peek at the pink under their skirts. Some were wearing nothing at all.
“He is into jailbait.” Disgusted, remembering Sunny’s claim about Bobby’s new girl, Isabel was even more terrified that Lucy was that girl.
Micah kept searching. This time he went to the computer library and clicked on Pictures, which took him to a page with several folders. He began opening them. Some were family photos, others were car shows, shots of lowriders with close-ups of the art painted on their hoods and fenders.
Opening the last folder marked Hot, Micah cursed, and Isabel’s heart literally stopped when a string of photos came up—amateur shots of young girls in various forms of undress.
How young she couldn’t quite tell. Not Lucy young. Possibly underage, though she couldn’t be certain. She held her breath as Micah increased the size of the photos and scanned down the page.
She whispered, “
Please, not Lucy
…”
Micah raced to the last of the photos. “She’s not here.” His voice sounded strangled, exactly the way she was feeling. “He might like them young, but none of them is Lucy.”
She shuddered out a breath. “Thank God.”
Had they been wrong, then? About Bobby having Lucy?
Micah said, “I’m deleting today’s history so Bobby won’t be able to tell that someone was in his computer.”
“What difference does it make?”
“Ochoa might have to use his viewing history against him. If Bobby thinks someone has been in here messing with his computer, it’ll put out a red flag. He might delete both the sites and the photos.”
“So you want to call Ochoa now?” she asked.
“Not until we know something for certain.” He closed the browser, put the computer back into hibernate mode, and stood. “It’s getting dark. We ought to get back to Soledad and the Gecko Saloon before our families start to kill each other.”
Leaving everything the way they’d found it, they left through the back door, and Micah made sure it was locked. Hopefully, Bobby would never guess he’d had intruders.
When they were back on the road, Isabel said, “What should we do about Detective Ochoa?”
“Should we do anything?”
“We still suspect Bobby.”
“But have nothing tangible to offer. Do you really want to let the police know we broke into Bobby’s home?”
“Maybe not.”
“We need something more to go on, which means orchestrating a face-to-face. Of course, first we have to figure out where he’s holed up.”
“Maybe he’s shacked up in a motel,” Isabel said.
“Or maybe he has another place he uses. We’ll swing by Soto Used Cars first thing in the morning and see if we can find out.”
“Or maybe we’ll learn that someone else has a lead when we get to the Gecko Saloon.”
After seeing what Bobby Soto kept stored on his computer, Isabel could only hope that one of their relatives had an answer she could stomach.
…
Unfortunately, they weren’t the only ones teeming with disappointment. None of the other members of their families had come up with any answers that made sense. It had all been a total bust.
Micah headed home for the night after dropping off Isabel at Falcon Ranch. It had been her idea to get what sleep they could, and drive back to Santa Fe for a fresh start in the morning. He suspected she hadn’t wanted to be alone with him all night again. Not after the shower incident. To be honest, he’d thought a lot about those heated minutes, the memories and feelings haunting him, wreaking havoc with his concentration. He wanted another chance at her. He wanted more than just the sex. He wanted to make love to her, to compel her to face—and hopefully share—the old feelings whipping through him.
Okay, so she was right not to want to be alone with him all night.
Whatever.
It would be good to sleep in his own bed.
If he could sleep
.
When he parked the truck at the family ranch and went inside, he wasn’t surprised to see everyone waiting up for him.
“Have you eaten, boy?” Gramps asked.
Micah’s stomach growled at the mention of food. “Not since this morning. I could eat.”
“Good, because Zia already threw some steaks on the grill the minute she walked in the door,” Seth said.
“And I’d better check on them since real men like their beef practically on the hoof.” Zia rushed out of the room.
“C’mon, son,” his father said, putting an arm around his back and leading him toward the kitchen. “You do know how sorry I am about Lucy, right?”
“Does that mean you’re willing to change anything?”
His father’s mouth tightened.
Well, he got his answer. He shrugged off the arm that was meant to comfort him, and headed for the refrigerator. His father would never change.
Pulling a beer from the fridge, he twisted off the cap, stood there and drank it half down. Seth slapped him on the back and grabbed another beer.
“You know he loves Lucy,” his brother said in a low tone.
“Not enough, apparently.”
Not enough to accept his child’s mother. His father had never wavered on the hard-assed stance he’d taken on the night of that first gut-wrenching argument. The night Lucy had been conceived.
So when they sat at the table as a family to eat, Micah made sure he sat as far away from his father as he could possibly get. He couldn’t look at him. Not tonight.
He didn’t want to think about what Bobby might be doing with his child. It was his father’s fault his daughter wasn’t here with them now at the ranch, safe and sound, with both her parents around to love and protect her.
“Eat something, Micah.” Zia plopped a thick steak on his plate and set a bowl of potato salad and another of beans in front of him.
He looked into his little sister’s eyes and it was like looking into a mirror. Not only were they the same shade of violet as his own, he could look inside them and see the despair and grief she was trying to hide. Zia might be trying to keep a brave face for him, but, even though they’d never been close like he and Seth were, the depth of her feelings was clear.
“Thanks, Zia,” Micah said, and did something totally uncharacteristic for him. He reached up and wrapped an arm around her shoulders, tugged her down for a hug, and kissed her forehead.
When he let her go, Zia blinked at him as she straightened, then shrugged off her surprise. “Eat before it gets cold.”
“You need to keep up your strength,” Caleb said. “Isabel is depending on you.”
Micah glanced over to his father, who was still avoiding looking at him. Instead, he was staring down into his plate as if he’d never seen food before. Micah guessed Dad didn’t even want to hear Isabel’s name spoken in his presence.
“I know that, Gramps. And this time I can’t afford to disappoint her, because if I do, it’ll be Lucy who suffers for it.”
“Can’t have that.” Gramps shook his head. “Women need protecting. Isabel shouldn’t be living on her own. She needs backup raising that precious child the two of you made. When you find our Lucy—and I know you will, boy—you hold onto her. And onto her mother.”
Shocked, Micah asked, “Gramps, are you actually saying what I think you’re saying?”
“I’m saying you shouldn’t ever let either one of them go again. You never got over Isabel, boy. You still love her as much as you love the child you share. It’s not right that you can’t be with them.”
Gramps glared at his son. Micah and his siblings looked at Dad expecting some reply or comment, but he just kept eating, shoveling food into his mouth, eyes down and not meeting anyone’s gaze.
Obviously, Gramps’s attitude toward the Falcons was softening—whether due to old age or to the current crisis, Micah didn’t know—but he feared his father would never let go of the damn feud. Especially not after Eduard had accused Dad of being responsible for Micah’s mother’s death.
The two men were equally unreasonable and both stubborn as mules, always had been. He couldn’t believe they were acting like this while their only grandchild had been kidnapped and was possibly enduring terrible things. The pair of them were just as obstinate and intractable now as they’d been since the day they’d learned that Isabel was pregnant…
…
“Micah, what are you doing here?” Isabel asked with a gasp when he finally found her on Falcon Ranch. “If Poppi catches you—”
Micah put his fingers over her mouth to stop her from going on and grinned down at her. “I’m here to fix things.”
“You can’t fix this.”
Isabel was pregnant. She’d told him two nights ago, the last time she’d sneaked out to meet him. He’d been overwhelmed at the time, hadn’t known what to say to make things right then, but now he knew what they had to do. He’d had the best reason in the world to ride onto Falcon land in broad daylight.
“We’ll get married.”
Her jaw dropped. “You want to marry me?”
“Of course I want to marry you. I love you.”
“But what about our families?”
“I’m not thinking anyone is going to be happy about this, but that baby will be both a Falcon and a Wild. They’ll come around. They’ll have to. We just have to be patient until they do. You can wait a little, right?”
He put his arms around her and she clung to him. “Oh, Micah, I don’t know—”
A hand on the back of his shirt ripped him away from Isabel.
“You have nerve coming onto my property, Wild!”
Micah jerked away from the determined grip and faced Isabel’s father. “I want you to know I’m going to make things right, sir.”
“Right? You’re no better than your father,” Eduard said. “You defiled my daughter, and now you think you can make it right?”
“I love Isabel!” Micah countered.
“She’s still in high school! You’ve ruined her life!”
“We love each other, Poppi,” Isabel said. “We want to be together. Micah asked me to marry him. We’ll make it work!”